


How Could I Have Known?

by the_sky_is_forever



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Cathartic Yelling, Demisexuality, Enjolras/Bahorel Friendship, Fake/Pretend Exes, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, it's complicated - Freeform, it's the aftermath of pretending to date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:57:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8364184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_sky_is_forever/pseuds/the_sky_is_forever
Summary: Pretending to date doesn't always end in happily ever after. Sometimes it ends with acting like exes in front of all your friends when all you really want to do is tell him that you love him, that it was a terrible idea, that it shouldn't have been fake and it shouldn't have ended.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Winterfxrest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterfxrest/gifts).



> I'm starting a new trope. Pretending to be exes.
> 
> Jess, this isn't quite the fic we planned out. I'm still going to write that one, but thinking about that one hit me with inspiration for this, so I hope this will do for the time being.
> 
>  
> 
> [Now with a translation into Russian!](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4945658)

“You used to date that guy right?” he says, and Enjolras turns to look in the direction his new friend is looking.

Oh. Grantaire. Right.

“Yeah,” Enjolras says, offhandedly. “It was a while back.”

“And you’re still friends?”

“Well, we still have the same friends, if that’s the same thing,” Enjolras hedges, not wanting to jump right out and call him and Grantaire friends. He’s not sure what they are, but friends never really fit the bill. He hates talking about this, but it’s something people always ask him about. If he could go back in time and never do any of it he would take that opportunity and cling to it like a fucking life raft.

Grantaire is, for whatever reason, teaching Joly how to quickstep on the expanse of grass near where all of their friends are lounging in the sun. It actually looks like fun, but Enjolras’ new friend is looking at Grantaire with something close to contempt.

“He looks far too… _carefree_ for you,” he comments.

Enjolras frowns at him. Enjolras met him in a class a few weeks ago, and honestly? He can’t remember his name, but they’ve been talking between classes since then and he seems decent enough. He doesn’t like the way he’s looking at Grantaire though.

“He’s… light,” Enjolras says.

“Light?” the guy asks, looking confused.

“Yeah,” Enjolras says. “Light. You know. He made me take breaks, relax, do things just for fun. He was good for me.”

The guy pulls a face. “How come you aren’t still together, then?”

Enjolras huffs and runs a hand through his hair. “It was a bad idea. We were good for each other as a fling but… He’s not _forever_ material. We didn’t work like that.”

The guy nods slowly. “Fair,” he says. There’s a pregnant pause right before he says, “Do you wish you did?”

“No,” Enjolras says. He looks back at Grantaire, who’s in the middle of a laughing fit as Joly tries to practice the steps alone. “No,” he says again, trying to believe it this time.

Joly’s voice carries over to them, indignant and insulted. “Whatever! We can’t all be dancers!” he yells at Grantaire.

A few others start up a chant, trying to encourage Grantaire to show off a little and, laughing all the while, Grantaire concedes and kicks off his shoes.

Settling into a ballet position, Enjolras supposes it’s probably first position, but what does he know, Grantaire prepares to begin dancing, rising up onto his tiptoes and performing a few quick steps, a few turns and leaps and other ballet moves that have infinitely fancier names than what Enjolras calls them.

Grantaire’s not laughing now as he dances; his face is clear and full of concentration. He’s focused and beautiful and –

Enjolras looks away. “No,” he repeats. “He’s… Well, look at him. He’s captivating and interesting, and he’s completely unlike anyone I’d ever dated before, but that was all it was. I gave dating someone like him a go, and it doesn’t work for me. We’re different people. _Too_ different.”

“You sound pretty hung up on him, dude,” Enjolras’ friend says.

“It doesn’t work and I don’t want it to,” Enjolras tells him. “That’s all there is to it. I’m done talking about this.”

The guy smiles. “All right.”

The thing is, Enjolras and Grantaire never dated. The other thing is, Enjolras and Grantaire are the only ones who know this.

Enjolras regrets it with every fibre of his being. He hates having to pretend to be Grantaire’s ex, hates lying to his friends, and hates the sympathetic looks his friends all shoot him when Grantaire goes home with a stranger. He hates that he and Grantaire gave up on what was so close to being friendship in order to ‘break up’.

Enjolras should never have asked Grantaire to pretend to date him. Hindsight is 20/20, of course.

It seemed like such a good idea at the time, and Grantaire was such a safe choice. There was no room for things getting uncomfortable when there was no friendship to ruin by having to act like a couple. But then they spent so much time together, and Enjolras started to genuinely enjoy it.

And then they broke up. Well, ‘broke up’.

Enjolras had to pull back, Grantaire had to act like he hated Enjolras, their friends had to keep them separate a while.

Say goodbye to talking late into the night, goodbye to all the in-jokes they had built up, goodbye to knowing what Grantaire was watching on Netflix and hearing about his job, goodbye to the crooked, toothy grins, the perfectly made coffee, Grantaire’s voice in the shower.

Enjolras pulls some grass up and starts shredding it with his fingers. He sprinkles it over his new friend’s legs and glances up to see his new friend watching him with an amused smirk, and Enjolras is hit with the realisation that this guy is remarkably attractive.

He looks nothing like Grantaire of course, but then, who does?

The guy lifts a hand up to gently brush his fingers against Enjolras’ cheek and jawline before quickly leaning in to steal a kiss. Enjolras hesitates before their lips meet, head tilting so their foreheads bump together lightly and stay pressed that way.

“We were _just_ talking about my ex,” Enjolras says, voice coming out far softer than he meant it too.

“That’s fine with me,” the guy says, and their noses are brushing and his skin is soft and inviting, the hand on Enjolras’ cheek gentle and warm.

Still Enjolras’ hesitates, biting his lip. “This isn’t like me,” he says.

“That’s also fine with me,” the guy says.

“Uh,” Enjolras says, pulling back a little further, “I don’t actually know your name,” he admits.

The guy laughs, a lovely sound, and he says, grinning, “Shocking, Enjolras. We’ve been friends for weeks now.”

Blushing Enjolras says, “I know. I feel terrible. I didn’t know how to ask, it got too far.”

Still laughing, the guy says, “Well, it’s Jean. Not sure how you forgot that, in all its dreary stereotypical glory. Even if you forgot, you could have guessed it.”

“Jean,” Enjolras echoes. “You’re right. That is unbearably French of your parents.”

“I’m sure you’ll find it in you to forgive them,” Jean says. “Now how about that kiss?”

A little flustered at the attention, Enjolras smiles and bites his lip. “All right,” he says.

Jean tucks some of Enjolras’ hair behind his ear and leans in, closing the gap between them in a kiss, gentle and closed mouthed.

It’s nice. It doesn’t get his heart racing like kissing Grantaire used to, but whoever said that all kisses had to send you into shock to be worth having.

Jean changes angle, and the kiss gets a little more intense, but even so, Enjolras can’t help but think _Is this it?_

It’s just kissing. Nothing more than the movement of Enjolras’ mouth against Jean’s mouth. It’s… underwhelming, to say the least.

Enjolras pulls away, breaking the kiss off. He pinches his lips together. “I’m sorry,” he says after a moment of silence. “I, uh-” He breathes out. “I can’t do this? I’m sorry. I want to but it doesn’t… It’s not feeling right, I’m sorry. I don’t think it’s you, I think… Yeah, I don’t know.”

“Ouch,” Jean says, moving away, but he’s smiling. “I thought it was going all right.”

Enjolras laughs awkwardly. “I’m sorry,” he says again, running a hand over his hair.

“No, it’s all right,” Jean says. “Maybe we could try again another day?” he suggests, a little hopefully.

Enjolras pulls a face. “Ah, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he says.

“Yeah,” Jean says. “I thought you might say that.”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras says, sincerely. “I’d like to stay friends, if you’d like?”

Jean smiles. “Sure. Friends sounds good. I should get going,” he then adds, making a move to start getting up.

“Okay,” Enjolras says. “I’ll see you in class.”

Jean kisses him on the cheek. “See you in class, Enjolras,” he says, picking up his bag and walking away.

Enjolras watches him go before shaking his head and getting up to go join his friends. Flopping down next to Bahorel, he roots in his bag for a bobble, yanking his hair up into a ponytail.

“He’s cute,” Bahorel says, off-hand.

Enjolras rolls his eyes. He’d known there was no chance of getting away without comment. “It’s not going anywhere,” he tells Bahorel.

“Why not?” Bahorel asks. “Did he want you to do weird things like stay super still during sex and pretend to be a dead body?”

Enjolras pulls a disgusted face. “That’s gross and I don’t want porn recs from you from now on,” he says.

“When was I giving you porn recs to begin with?” Bahorel asks.

Enjolras rolls his eyes again. “Anyway, _no_ , he did not want me to do anything like that. What you just saw was our first and only kiss.”

“But _why_?” Bahorel asks. “You can’t deny yourself forever just because Grantaire is still around.”

“It has nothing to do with Grantaire, I just don’t like Jean that way,” Enjolras says. “Grantaire and I are in the past, he has nothing to do with my dating life and that’s how it’s staying! God, I wish people would stop bringing up that complete _mistake_. It was a waste of time and a bad idea all round and I need you to all stop acting like it should have any influence on how I live my life now.”

Bahorel raises his hands in surrender. “Sorry, bro. Can I just say though? _Way harsh, Tai_. A ‘waste of time’? Bit cruel.”

“Oh, go to hell,” Enjolras says, witheringly, flopping back on the grass and staring up at the sky. “I’m not in the mood for this.”

“Sorry,” Bahorel says.

Enjolras sighs. “No, it’s fine. It’s me. I’m just mad at myself for… God, a thousand things. Fuck, I need an excuse to scream.”

“I think being mad at yourself is a perfectly fine reason to scream,” Bahorel says, grinning. He grabs Enjolras’ hand and pulls him up. “Come on,” he says, dragging Enjolras along behind him in a quick dash to a picnic table not far away.

Bahorel jumps up onto the table and lets out a loud, wordless yell.

Enjolras laughs in shock and looks around to see who’s looking at them.

“Come on!” Bahorel encourages Enjolras, gesturing him up onto the table.

A little self-conscious, unused to selfish acts of loudness, Enjolras climbs up alongside Bahorel.

“Now scream,” Bahorel says.

“I can’t!” Enjolras exclaims. “Everyone will look at me!”

“Who cares?” Bahorel asks. “On three,” he says, not giving Enjolras chance to protest or over-think it. “One, two, three!”

The pair of them let out a loud yell at the same time, the sound way too loud in the previously fairly quiet space. Enjolras goes bright red as a bunch of people look their way, but the act of yelling was so cathartic that he stops caring a second later.

“Fuck you!” Enjolras screams, up into the sky.

Bahorel grins, and then starts yelling words, too, getting specific and encouraging Enjolras to follow suit. “Fuck exams!” Bahorel yells. “Fuck being a lawyer! Fuck Carrefour for running out of ice cream! Fuck my neighbours fucking loud dog! Fuck that guy that lives above me that has raves every fucking weekend!”

Enjolras can barely breathe from laughing. “Fuck society’s fucking bullshit!” Enjolras screams. “Fuck everyone’s fucking expectations of me! Fuck my parents’ stuck up attitudes! Fuck that guy that was smoking outside my lecture and blew the smoke in my face! Fuck emotions! Fuck,” he finishes, at a normal level, sitting down heavily.

Bahorel sits down next to him and throws an arm around him. “You all right, kid?”

“I’m older than you,” Enjolras says, smiling wryly at Bahorel.

“You’re tiny though. It balances out,” Bahorel explains, wisely.

“Ah,” Enjolras says. “That makes sense.”

“I _am_ a lawyer,” Bahorel reminds him.

“In training,” Enjolras reminds _him_.

Bahorel grins. “True.” He squeezes Enjolras. “Seriously, though. You all right?”

Enjolras sighs. “No,” he admits. “But fuck it. That’s all right.”

“That’s the attitude we’re looking for,” Bahorel says, mock-supportively. “You wanna talk about it, though?”

“No,” Enjolras says. “Yes,” he then says. “Oh, I don’t know,” he settles on. “There’s no point in talking about it.”

“Talking always helps,” Bahorel says. “Unless you’re trying to cover up a murder, in which case my professional lawyer advice is to keep shtum.”

Enjolras smiles. “It’s not murder,” he says.

“Well, thank God for that,” Bahorel says, grinning. “Come on, how bad can it be?”

“It’s not… It’s not _bad_ , it’s just _pointless_ ,” Enjolras says. “I shouldn’t have ever dated him because now we’re not even friends and he’s so _wonderful_ , but it’s over and done with and that’s all there is to it.”

Bahorel is grinning like a cat that got the cream next to him, and Enjolras scrunches up his face, leaning into Bahorel so he doesn’t have to look at that smug expression as Bahorel says, “You’re still in love with Grantaire.”

“ _No_ ,” Enjolras protests sulkily. “All right, _fine_. Maybe I feel less than platonic towards Grantaire, but it’s just- It’s not- There’s no way-”

“Not with that attitude there’s not,” Bahorel says, chidingly. “Please, Enjolras, you can’t possibly tell me you think that Grantaire is over you.” When Enjolras doesn’t reply, Bahorel says, “If there’s one thing I’m absolutely sure about in this world it’s that Grantaire will never fully move on from you, so if you still love him, which you _obviously do_ , tell him. Don’t let this pass you by.”

Enjolras nods. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. You’re right. Yeah. I should tell him. I’m gonna tell him.” He jumps to his feet. “Right now, I’m gonna tell him right now,” he decides, and because he is who he is, he immediately starts following through on that decision.

Leaving a dumbstruck Bahorel sitting on the top of a picnic table, Enjolras heads straight over to where Grantaire is chatting idly to Combeferre and Bossuet. “Grantaire, can I speak to you for a moment?” Enjolras says, saying the words before he can get too scared to.

Grantaire looks surprised but says, “Sure, I guess.”

Enjolras waits for Grantaire to get to his feet and leads them away from the group, out of hearing range. Enjolras sits down on the grass and, looking a little confused, Grantaire does too.

“Okay, here goes,” Enjolras says. “I should never have asked you to fake date me. It ruined everything because it let me see how great you are and how much I like being around you but stopped us from actually being friends both while we were fake dating and after now we’re fake broken up.”

“Okay,” Grantaire says, slowly.

“I’m not done,” Enjolras says. “So, yeah. I found out how fun you are to talk to, and how much we have in common, and you taught me about a lot of things I never even considered knowing about before all that. So I want to be your friend.”

“We can be friends,” Grantaire says, and he’s starting to smile, even if the smile still looks a little lost and confused.

“I’m still not done,” Enjolras says. “But I don’t just want to be your friend, because I also found out how good you look with sleep-ruffled hair, and how kissing you sets all of me on fire but at the same time feels like sinking into a bath of warm soothing water. I found out what it’s like to always have someone next to me and what it’s like to be able to look over at you, knowing you’re thinking the same thing I am. I found out what it’s like to cook dinner for two and set the table for two and pour two glasses of wine in the evening. I found out what it would be like to date you, and I want it back, Grantaire. I want it back so badly. I want _you_. Grantaire, I- I think I love you.”

He meets Grantaire’s eyes, and all it takes is that one look to know where he stands. He grins helplessly at Grantaire and finds him grinning back.

Grantaire opens his arms to Enjolras, and Enjolras collapses into them, filled with relief. “I’ve missed you so much,” he confesses.

“I’ve missed you too, Enj,” Grantaire replies. “I love you. I always have.”

Enjolras pulls back from the hug to grin at him. “Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“Yes,” Grantaire says, eagerness colouring his voice.

So he does, and Enjolras’ mind goes blank except for one thought.

_There it is._

_This_ is how a kiss is meant to feel.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Hope you liked it!  
> If you did, leave a comment, I'd love to hear from you. Or, I'm at nerds-are-cool and theskyis-forever on tumblr. Either or.  
> <3  
> Also, if you enjoyed this: [buy me a coffee?](http://ko-fi.com/A831F9U)


End file.
